Spiderman revisited
by salendola
Summary: moviebased Why is MaryJane taking pictures? Why are Peter and Harry hiding out in the privy? Why is Norman's limo being held hostage? third chapter up! Rated T for suggestiveness.
1. Stormy Norman and the women

Disclaimer: I do not own Spiderman movie, or any characters therein. They belong to Marvel. This is just my overactive imagination at work. Spiderman revisited Chapter 1 Stormy Norman and the women 

Harry had been uneasy all morning. There was something strange in the air, something… foreboding. A sense of impending doom. As he got in the back of the limousine, he fumbled with his bag. He already knew it held everything he needed for the day, but he couldn't resist. He needed to do something to ease his mind.

His father noticed his restlessness.

'What's wrong, son?'

Harry shook his head.

' I don't know. I just have this very bad feeling about today. Sort of, like, there's an anvil hanging over my head.'

Norman Osborn smiled, and looked up in mock-surprise.

' Well, I certainly hope not. I can't leave my empire to a doormat.'

Harry looked at his father, genuinely surprised. His father had never said this in so many words, but he did intend for Harry to take over when he would be too old to carry on. After all, he couldn't leave Oscorp in the hands of those wolves without an Osborn sitting at the table. No, Harry would take over from him. Not that he wanted to, but what choice did he have?

Harry took the entire ride to stare out the window and ponder. Which, of course, didn't make the anvil go away. If anything, it only got worse the closer he got to the university.

As he got out of the car, he noticed the unnatural amount of girls. They were everywhere, and they were all eyeing him in a very creepy way. Almost… lustfully?

Deep in thought, he walked into Peter. Peter didn't seem to notice the overwhelming female attention or, if he did, he didn't show it. They talked a while, when he heard the familiar voice of his father. Then, the most peculiar thing happened. All the girls turned as one to Norman Osborn.

' Here, son. You don't wanna forget this.' Norman said, as he handed aforementioned bag to his son.

And then, there was giggling.

' Isn't that just, like, sooo caring of him. He's sooo cute!' one of the girls said. Norman finally realised all the female attention he was getting. He seemed to do a quick assessment of the situation, smiled apologetically at Harry, then made a run for the limo followed by what seemed to be no less than half the female student body.

' I WANT HIS SHIRT!'

' FIRST DIBS ON HIS UNDIES!'

' SCREW THAT, I WANT THE WHOLE THING!'

He made it back to the limo just in time, locked it from the inside and thanked Oscorp for the bullet-proof exterior.

While all this happened, Harry and Peter had stood by open-mouthed and completely stunned. However, when the girls found out Norman's limo-fortress was impenetrable to their charms, they turned back to dear Harry. It wasn't their leering that did it, it was the whispering that freaked Harry out like nothing else.

' (whisper)…cute butt…(whisper)…go round the back…(whisper)…cut him off.'

Peter looked at Harry.

Harry looked at Peter.

They looked at the girls.

The girls looked back hungrily.

Then the two boys made a run for it.

Norman saw it all through the window. He felt sorry for his poor son, but Harry would have to fend for himself. He'd have to in the end, anyway. He gave his chauffeur the order to take him to Oscorp, where he felt he would be safe. It was more of a home to him than his mansion ever was. He felt he just couldn't fill the place. Sure, there was staff to look after it, but it still felt like he was a young boy walking around in the trousers of his father. Oscorp, however, was like his left-arm to him. He couldn't do without it. It was a part of him. It lived and breathed with him. When the limo stopped in front of the entrance of the main building, Norman felt relieved like never before in his life. With a bit of luck, there were no women in there. At least, none that weren't supposed to be there.

As the limo drove away, Peter and Harry were running through the research-facility, looking desperately for a place to hide.

'Quick, in there! With a bit of luck, they won't dare to follow us!'

'The men's room? Are you kidding!'

'No time to kid, let's go. There not that far behind.'

The two boys ran into the men's room, into the last cubicle and closed the door behind them. They could hear the footsteps of what seemed to be at least an entire battalion of man-hungry girls. Then the running stopped, and the boys heard hushed voices outside the door.

'Do you wanna go in there?'

'EW! No! I've been in there once. It smells of gross.'

'You've been in the me…'

'Yes, yes I have. I'm still havin' nightmares. Please don't talk about it anymore.'

'… So…what do we do?'

'Eh… wait?'

'… 'kay.'

The sound of a thousand bottoms hitting floor could be heard.

'Hey, I know…SLUMBERPARTY!'

'YEAH! GOOD IDEA, GIRL!'

The voices got a decidedly higher pitch. Harry and Peter listened to this with wide-eyed amazement. Then reality kicked in.

'They're not gonna go away, are they?' Peter sighed.

'Nope, we're stuck. Bummer.' Harry answered.

'Bummer? It's more than just a bummer, Harry. If we don't show up, we're gonna flunk this class!'

'We'll, if you wanna go out there and get your camera trampled on, you shirt ripped to shreds and your cherry taken by a mob of horny, yet very creepy girls, then be my guest. Heck, I'll open the door for you.' Harry made a move for the door-handle of their cubicle.

'No, stop! Alright, okay I'm staying. Besides, they can't get my camera, because I slipped it to Mary-Jane when we were running. She knows how it works, so I'm sure she'll take some pictures for the school-paper this time.'

'Good for you, Pete. Great…'

'Yeah…'

'… So, you got any cards on you?'

' I'm afraid not.'

'Bummer.'

Mary-Jane Watson had a bad morning, to begin with. First, she couldn't find her bag. Then, when she finally found it and went downstairs for breakfast, her father had yelled at her again. Calling her useless tart, a whore, that she should be grateful that he'd tolerated her stench around the house for this long. Then, when they were at the research-lab, Peter and Harry were being chased by insane girls. As they passed, Peter had given Mary-Jane his camera. Great, now she couldn't hang around at the back of the group. She'd have to take pictures. Ugh. As she listened to the scientist explain all about spiders, she raised her hand.

'Excuse me, miss? Can I take some pictures for the school-paper?'

The scientist nodded. 'Sure, go ahead.'

'Hey, MJ. Did Parker split, or what?'

'Shut up, Flash. For your information, he was chased by more girls than you'll ever have.'

'Hey, chill out. Besides, I don't need more girls, I got you.' He squeezed her butt to give his words some extra emphasis.

'Stop it! I gotta get this picture.'

As she focussed the camera on one of the fifteen small compartments in front of her, she noticed it was empty.

'There's only fourteen.'

The woman looked at her. 'What?'

'There's only fourteen spiders, but there are fifteen compartments.'

'Then they're probably working on that one.' The woman answered.

'Oh, okay. Thanks.' Somehow, though, Mary-Jane didn't find that very reassuring. The group moved on, but she and Flash Thompson stayed behind.

'Let's just go, MJ. What are you waiting for?'

'I need one with a student. That's what Peter always does.'

Flash raised an eyebrow. 'Okay, what do you want me to do?'

'Just stand right over there. Next to the box with the white one in it.' She answered, taking a few steps back to get both Flash and the box in the frame. Flash looked the prototype of a student on a science-trip; Bored to Death. He leaned on the table, stifling a yawn. Mary-Jane threw an angry look at him.

'Jeez, Flash. A bit more enthusiasm would be nice. I'm not gonna give this back to Peter without some good pictures, now work with me damnit!'

'Yeah, yeah, alright. I'm enthusiastic. Jeez!'

As Mary-Jane focussed her camera once more, she didn't notice the spider landing on her hand. It was a small one, red and blue and, very much like her fourteen sisters, she was extremely aggressive. She walked across the back of the hand she'd landed on, picked herself a nice, tender spot and bit down. Hard.

Mary-Jane shrieked as she felt a searing pain shoot up her hand. The spider landed on the floor and made herself scarce.

'MJ, what's wrong? Camera bite you?'

'SHUT UP, FLASH! DAMN, THAT HURT!'

Flash walked over to her, and inspected her hand.

'What is that?… did it really bite you?'

'Well, something bit me. Let's just go, okay?'

Mary-Jane stalked off, Flash Thompson following meekly a few steps behind.

'Do you think the tour's over?'

Harry looked at his watch. 'Probably.'

'I hope MJ took some good pictures.'

Peter had moved to the adjacent cubicle, and looked at the spider above him. It was weaving a web. Peter loved spiders, he always had. The way they could make something so beautiful and complex out of nothing had always fascinated him. They were artists in their own right. Suddenly, Peter longed for his camera. He should've brought a spare. Then again, he didn't have one. He leaned back against the wall.

'Hey Harry, what do you wanna do after graduation?'

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know. To tell you the truth, I don't think I'm gonna graduate. I've been kicked out of so many private-schools I just don't see the point anymore.'

'I don't know what I'm gonna do. I was thinking of going into science.' Peter continued.

'You would. You've got the smarts. You can do anything…'

'Well, so can you. You've just gotta stop being so negative and give yourself a chance.'

'Yeah, I know. I know!' Harry sighed. 'It's just that… I feel like my life's already been decided for me. My dad wants me to take over Oscorp when he's gone. Like I want that.'

'… Forget about your dad. What do you want?'

'I don't KNOW! Will you stop whining about it!'

Peter raised his arms. 'I surrender.'

The silence that followed hung like a fog over the two cubicles. Harry's thoughts were turned inwards. Even though he hated to think about it, if he were to face his father about not following in his footsteps, he'd have to be able to tell him what it was that he did want to do. And so far, no profession came to mind. He'd had half a mind to take up modelling once, but Norman had put a quick stop to that by calling models a "bunch of prancing fairies in Donna Karan, talking about the latest type of handbag". Harry hadn't mentioned it again.

Peter was thinking his usual thoughts when left by himself. They involved Mary-Jane, cameras, Mary-Jane and Mary-Jane. He couldn't help it. Ever since she'd moved in next door, he was completely besotted. Thinking about her made him happy. Not to mention, it took his mind off the girls camping out in the hallway. Where the hell did they come from, and what did they want?

As Norman Osborn entered Oscorp, he felt decidedly better. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He took off his coat and jacket, and put on his lab-coat. He looked at his watch and cursed. He was late for his appointment with the general and his advisors. Personally, he couldn't stand the man, but it was the general who decided whether they were getting a new budget or not. Norman took a deep breath, focussed and walked through the doors.

…

Back to formula? What was that idiot talking about? Back to formula! He'd have to have a talk with Stromm about keeping his mouth shut. He was positively fuming as he worked. When he noticed that simple procedures took him twice as long as usual, Norman Osborn realised that today was not a good day to continue working.

'Natasha, warn my driver. I wanna be outta here in five.' He grumbled to his secretary. He turned off his computer and stared out the window. He had a good office. It was on the top floor, with the most magnificent view you could have of the city without seeing it from a helicopter or an airplane. But hey, he was Norman Osborn. And what Norman wanted, Norman got. And he wanted a view.

He mused on this thought for a while, then turned in another direction. He needed that funding. Back to formula! Ha! Not when he was still around. He'd come back after dinner, and would let his men pick some homeless guy off the street to test it on.

Now restless, he looked at his watch. What was taking Alex so long? You start the car, you drive to the main entrance. Easy enough. He stuck his head out of his office, where his secretary seemed to be engaged in a very bemusing phone call. She put her hand over the lower part of the horn, and looked up at Norman.

'Sir, I think we have a problem.'

Norman sighed. 'Oh, really. How so?'

'I-I think that your Rolls is being held hostage.'

Norman blinked. 'Come again?'

'What, here?' The secretary answered bemusedly.

'Don't get funny with me, what the hell's going on?'

'I'm talking to some girl, who's putting up a low voice and saying she's Alex.'

'WHAT!' Norman stormed out of his office and grabbed the horn, almost yanking the phone off the desk. 'Who is this?'

Giggling. Then the sound of a high voice pretending to be a low one.

'It's me, sir, Alex.' The voice said. 'Your limo is ready, sir.'

_For what, I wonder_. Norman thought to himself.

'I don't know who you are, but your are not Alex. Now put Alex on the phone.'

Other voices were now sounding in the background. It seemed the phone inside the limo was on the speaker-function, and Norman found himself listening in on the strangest conversation he'd ever heard.

'I told you, you should've let me do the talking. My voice is lower than yours.'

'Oh piss off, you tart! At least Í am really an Alex, so I can understand the complexness of the Alex-character.'

'You are so full of it!'

'Quiet, I think he can hear us.'

'Oh, shit. Turn off the speakers, you idiot!'

'I don't know how!'

'Just… just press a button! Okay!'

Norman heard nothing at first, then a sound of air rushing by, then something that sounded like Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit" (which seemed to be causing some sighs in the background. Norman didn't know why, but hey, who cares?), then … the sound of panting, moaning and moving furniture?

'Holy shit, GAY PORN!'

Norman held the horn at arms length, a look of indignation painted on his face.

'Alex watches gay porn IN MY ROLLS ROYCE!'

The secretary looked at him dryly. 'Of course he does. Gay as a daisy in May, sir.'

'Oh. Right. Why don't I know these things?'

'You never really ask, sir.'

'Oh… are you gay?'

'No sir.'

'… Well, that's okay too.'

'Thank you, sir. I'm glad you feel that way.'

The panting seemed to have stopped, so Norman put the horn back to his ear. In stead, he heard a lot of girls' voices talking excitedly amongst themselves. They seemed to have temporarily forgotten about him. Happy with the short reprieve, Norman took the time to form a strategy. He had to get his limo back from these horny wenches and make it safely home without getting pounced on. Oh no, what if they were at the mansion, too? Well, he'd just have to risk it. He took a couple of deep breaths, then spoke.

'Hello, ladies? Are you still holding my limo hostage?' He asked pleasantly. The voices on the other end of the line subsided a bit, and the same girl he'd been talking to earlier, but now with her normal voice, answered.

'Yeah, we're still here. Too bad you're not.' Words of agreement were heard in the background.

'Well, I'm very sorry ladies, but it's gonna stay that way. I'm asking you nicely to leave. Don't make me ask it the hard way.'

One of the voices in the background giggled. 'Tee hee, he said "hard". Did you hear it?'

'Oh, shut up Suzan, you childish ho! I'm sorry, Normy, but some of us got sucked into this by mistake. YES I SAID SUCKED, YES! NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP!'

Sobs in the background. Norman raised an eyebrow. It seemed he had overestimated his female stalkers. These were obviously no criminal masterminds.

'If you don't come down, we'll go back to our sisters at the university, and wait for dear Harry and Peter to come out of the privy. Understood?'

Okay, so maybe they were criminal masterminds. Norman felt he was being cornered. That's when Stormy Norman kicked in.

'Okay, ladies. You wanna bargain? Let's bargain. You let Harry en Peter return safely home, and I'll give you my tie. How's that?'

Whispering on the other side of the line. Then "Alex" again.

'Nope, not good enough. Try again.'

'A tie and a sock?'

More whispering, then back to "Alex".

'Nope, we're not interested in your socks. Well, Suzan is, but she's not getting anything. Think… torso.'

Stormy Norman was taken aback, but only for about two seconds.

'…My shirt?'

'Bingo!'

'…Alright, you've got a deal. I send someone down with my shirt, and you let my son and Peter Parker go home. And I get my limo back.'

'Deal… We'll be waiting.'

Then they hung up.

Norman put down the phone, and sighed.

'… Well?' An impatient voice said. Norman looked behind him, to find that the entire forty-fourth floor had been listening in.

'Yes, mister Osborn. Time to cough up.'

'Yeah.'

'…Get back to work!' Norman answered back, annoyed that his staff were so easily distracted.

The people went back to work grudgingly. Norman took off his overcoat, his jacket, his dark-red tie and, finally, his shirt. He gave it to his secretary.

'You take it to them, Natasha. You're a woman, so I suppose you'll be safe.'

'Certainly, mister Osborn. I'm very sorry about this. We weren't prepared.'

'Who would be?' Norman answered, as he took a spare-shirt from out of the cabinet in his office.

'It's the most horrible shirt/tie combination known to man, but it'll have to do.' He said, as he watched his reflection in the window. Harry didn't know about Fashionable Norman. It was a secret he'd kept all his life. After all, who would believe a scientist could have a fashion-sense? As he landed on the comfortable couch opposite the window, Norman waited for Natasha to return. Preferably with good news.

Mary-Jane slammed the door behind her. She'd been able to avoid her father, but she still felt sick. Like she was going to throw up. Her muscles were going mad, and the spasms were getting worse every minute. Mary-Jane landed on the bed, holding herself, sobbing quietly. _Oh well, if I die now, at least it will be a natural cause that did it_. she thought to herself.

Mary-Jane suffered from an abusive father like most children did; in silence.

Feel pain? Suck it up.

No nonsense.

The convulsions got worse, and she bit down hard on her pillow, tears streaming down her face. Finally, everything went black. Sweet relief.

**End of chapter one. Reviews are always welcome**.


	2. New beginnings

**Chapter two – New beginnings**

The girls were getting restless, which made Harry and Peter feel they weren't half as safe as before. Sometimes, one of the crazy girl-folk would actually push the door open a bit. It was no longer safe to stray outside the cubicle. Harry was sure they were to die in the privy.

'Hey, I hope they flush our remains. If my father sees what's left of me after they're done with me, he'll have a stroke… On second thought, I hope they don't flush us.'

'Cut your dad some slack, Harry.' retorted Peter. He'd settled against the wall, and was reading a comic book.

'Why? Like he's ever cut me any slack. Here I am, hunted down by a practically armed force of girls and he just drives off and leaves me here. Leaves us here!'

Peter took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He'd been caught in a vicious circle of Harry ever since he asked him what he wanted to do after high-school. Harry was drowning in self-pity, and Peter wasn't feeling all that nice, either. He stood up and reached for the right-wall of the cubicle. As he pulled himself up and looked into Harry's cubicle, very willing to beat him to death with a toilet-brush, he came face to face with… Harry's ass?

'Harry, what the hell are you doing?'

'Hey, Pete. Look at this! There's a small window up here. I think we can escape through it.'

'Really? That's a big ass you have, Harry. Are you sure?' he answered mockingly.

'Shut up and give me a boost. Unless you want to stay here and life on toilet-water.'

'… Okay, I'm coming. Give me a second, okay?'

'Hurry up! We don't want the freekazoids outside to find out.' Harry insisted. Peter dropped back into his cubicle, put his comic back in his bag and made for the door. As he was about to turn the door-handle, he heard the voices outside getting louder. Careful not to make any noise, he stepped into Harry's cubicle. Somehow, he felt something bad was about to happen. Then, one of the girls outside began to yell.

'I'VE HAD IT! IT'S TIME FOR US TO GO GET WHAT WE'RE DUE!'

'Unlimited PUN-TANG!' a second voice yelled.

'MAN-PUSSY!' screamed a third.

'…What the who now?' asked a fourth.

'… Ehm, m-man-pussy?'

'What kind of ass-expression is that?'

'Yeah! It's man-meat, or pussy. But it can't possibly be both!'

'Well, actually, man-pussy does refer to a gay man's asshole…'

'What the- who the hell is this?'

'Rachel.'

'Well, Rachel… SHUT UP, HO!'

'… CHARGE!'

The door to the men's room slammed open, and there in the doorway stood lots of disgruntled women.

'Let's go find Harry!'

'Harry? Screw that. I'm here to find me a Parker.'

'Ooh, I've got a parker.'

'I meant Peter, you boil on the fat ass of humanity!'

'Jeez, like I was supposed to know.'

'Hey, aren't we all here for Peter? After all, he's so hot!'

'…Eh, no! We're all here for Harry, obviously. He's way hotter than Peter will ever be. Even as Spiderman.'

'…What?'

'You heard me, ho!'

'Doh!'

The sound of many women bitch-slapping each other was heard, and Harry wasn't one to waste a perfectly good opportunity to get the hell out of dodge. He hoisted himself out the window, and reached back to help Peter up. The girls, however, were done bitch-slapping, and were now making their way to the last cubicle. They opened the door, just as Peter was reaching for Harry's arm. There was a moment when time seemed to stand still, as the two parties looked at one another. The Harry did the only thing he could think of; he let go and made a run for it.

'I'm sorry, Pete!' He yelled. 'But I wanna life.'

As the girls closed in on him, Peter looked his death in the eye, and yelped as they pounced on him.

'Okay, girls, break it up!' A voice coming from the hallway said. The cloud of girls parted to reveal Alex, the girl Norman had been dealing with back at Oscorp. 'We made a deal with that other Osborn-hottie. The boys are free to go.'

The girls closest to Peter, who had before been eyeing him hungrily, we're making sounds of protest.

'That's not fair. We waited here all day, ALL DAY!'

'Yeah, man. What gives? Since when are you boss?'

'Since I'm One's right hand gal, that's why. You wanna refute that?'

Peter found himself being dragged out of the relative safety of the cubicle. One of the girls began to straighten his clothes, another handed him his glasses, which had fallen off in the commotion, and his bag. Then they escorted him gently, yet firmly, to the exit. Somewhere along the way, Peter saw a girl that looked different from the others. Dressed differently, and with the aura of undisputed authority. She looked at him benignly, and nodded towards the exit. More than slightly flustered, Peter Parker left the building and went home.

The girls turned back to their leader; the woman referred to as One. Some of them had a look of quiet resolve, some of acceptance, others were just too surprised to be anything but surprised.

'Where's the other one?' One asked.

'We saw him escape through the privy-window.'

'Smart move. Although I can't really see what anyone would see in that one. He left his best friend behind to safe his own ass. Doesn't that strike you as…well, just cowardly?'

'Hey, don't talk about our Harry that way. We're a deadly force of nature, so you can't blame him for making a run for it.' One of the girls answered fiercely.

'Okay. Let's just leave it. We need a new battle-plan.' Alex noted.

'Right. Oh, by the way, what's the deal you made with Normie, anyway?'

'… We got his shirt.'

'NO SHIT! What brand? Gucci? Prada?'

'Prada, baby.'

And there was rejoicing and much wine, as the girls started making plans to get their men. One looked on, and smiled.

…

Norman was tired, to say the least. As he made his way to the elevator, he hoped fervently that the girls were women of their word. He wanted to go to his bed so desperately. Any laboratory work would have to wait till tomorrow. He leaned against the elevator-wall and closed his eyes. There was no horrible elevator-music in the background (Norman didn't like it and, after all, this wasn't the Ritz.), and he found himself listening to nothing but the sound of his own breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. Not too fast, now. Concentrate. By the time the elevator had reached the ground floor, Norman was completely focused and ready to face whatever lay in store for him.

Which turned out, in the end, to be nothing. There were no girls anywhere. And there, oh exquisite joy, stood his limo. Alex held the door open for him, grinning stupidly.

'I'm sorry about the porn, mister Osborn. I'll leave it at home next time.'

'A stroke of true genius, Alex.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Oh, and… Alex?'

'Yes, sir?'

'… Never mind.'

The rest of the way home, Norman's thoughts were plagued by women. He knew this was just a temporary reprieve. In the end, he'd have to face them. This…horny horde of women_. I think I'll call them that from now on. Catchy, easy to remember and very much the truth._ Norman thought to himself. As the limo stopped in front of a traffic-light, Norman stared distantly out of the window. On the sidewalk, people were walking to where ever it was they were going. A man with a dog, a woman on roller-skates, an old man with a stick, a boy who, in Norman's opinion, should've been in bed by now. His eyes were drawn to the patch of grass right behind the sidewalk. There stood, shabbily-dressed, a man with a sign. Probably one of those prophet-types, who tell anybody willing to listen that the world is ending. Norman tried to make out the words on the sign, but they made no sense to him.

BEWARE THE PLOTHOLES!

THEY ARE HERE!

THE END IS NIGH!

The more Norman tried to focus, the more this man and his stupid sign seemed to fade into the background. Then they disappeared entirely, leaving Norman with more questions than he had to begin with. Once home, he went straight to bed. These questions could wait. Right now, what he truly needed was sleep.

…

Peter closed the front door behind him. Of all the days of his life, he'd never been happier to be home. Aunt May stuck her head out of the kitchen to greet him.

'Hello Peter. How was your fieldtrip? Did you get good pictures?'

'Sorry, aunt may, but I'm afraid it wasn't much of a fieldtrip to begin with. I spent about ninety-nine percent of it in the john.'

'I'm sorry to hear you're sick, dear. You should take a nice, hot shower and go to bed.' Aunt May said compassionately. Peter had half a mind to tell her the truth, then thought better of it. After all, who in their mind would believe he'd been besieged by girls? So he just nodded and went upstairs. There, he ran into his uncle.

'Hey, Pete. Not feeling well, I hear.'

'No, it's nothing. I just to get some shut-eye, that's all.'

'Okay, but if anything's wrong, you know you can tell us. We won't laugh at you. We're here to help you.'

Peter hugged his uncle. 'I know, uncle Ben. But really, it's nothing.'

Maybe tomorrow, this would all turn out to have been a bad dream.

…

Mary-Jane woke up at the sound of her alarm-clock. She turned off the sound, and looked sleepily at the time. Seven o' clock already? She stood up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She looked in the mirror, and found out she'd fallen asleep in yesterdays clothes. Still a bit fuzzy in the head, she dove into her closet for another outfit. Finally, she found something suitable. A pink sleeveless with a kitten printed on it, and blue jeans. Maybe a white blouse to go with it? As she was looking herself over in the mirror, Mary-Jane noticed something very out of the ordinary. She had muscles. Her arms didn't feel like their soft, skinny selves anymore. She looked down at her abdomen, and found even more muscles that hadn't been there the previous day. She prodded them, half expecting them to deflate. When they didn't, however, she couldn't resist and struck a body-builder pose. Her reflection smiled madly back at her.

'MJ! COME DOWN HERE AND MAKE ME BREAKFAST!' the rough, croaky voice of her father brought her back down to earth.

'OKAY, I'm coming!' She yelled back.

She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen.

'That whore of a mother of yours is still sleeping. Now get to work. And remember, I want my eggs runny, and you'd better not overcook the bacon, or I'll…' he continued like this for some more minutes. Then, when he was sure she got the message, he settled down in the brown chesterfield in the living room. Mary-Jane hated her father. He ruled the house with an iron fist, forcing his family to live in a way that he thought was appropriate for them. They didn't have much money, and what little there was went to the basic necessities, like food, clothes and water and electricity. This was not to mister Watson's liking, and he accused his wife and daughter of being the cause of his poverty. He, however, had no one to blame but himself. An overweight, underdressed man, watching television and terrorizing everyone around him. Mary-Jane could hardly blame her mother for staying in bed, and hoped she'd be up when she would be back from school. After all, her mother was the only reason she hadn't run away from home. She loved her mother too much to leave her heartbroken and alone with only this monstrosity of a man for company.

A column of smoke rising from the frying pan interrupted her musings. Her father's voice came from out of the living room.

' THAT'D BETTER NOT BE BURNED BACON I'M SMELLING, YOU WORTHLESS NO-ACCOUNT!'

Mary-Jane had just finished putting out the fire, when her father came into the kitchen. He saw the mess she'd made, and his eyes grew wide.

'YOU RUINED MY BREAKFAST, YOU LITTLE SLUT! THAT WAS THE LAST OF THE BACON!'

'I'm sorry, okay!' Mary-Jane spoke desperately.

'No, you little minx. It's not "okay"!' He said, mocking her voice. 'Someone is going to be punished for this. Guess who that's gonna be?'

He took off his belt, and eyed her threateningly. Usually, Mary-Jane would've run out of the house, knowing she'd be safe next-door. But, somehow, today was different. She looked at her father, and stood her ground. This seemed to confuse mister Watson somewhat. After all, he was used to seeing her run out the door the moment he took off his belt. This time, his daughter just stood there, and he knew he wasn't going to win this round on threats alone. A disgustingly evil smile spread across his face, as he advanced on her. As he brought his arm down, he expected to hear leather hitting flesh. Instead, he heard nothing. He'd hit air.

Mary-Jane looked on in absolute amazement as her father seemed to be moving at her in slow-motion. She saw the belt coming down, and evaded it easily. She looked at her father, whose expression changed slowly from anger, to surprise, to a look of such hatred it made her heart ache. _Dad, when did you stop loving mom? Why did you have me at all, if you don't love me? Why do you treat us so badly? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, YOU MISERABLE SON OF A BITCH!_

As she was thinking this, Mary-Jane felt herself getting angrier by the second. When her father tried to beat her a second time, she pulled back her right arm and punched him in the face. She had decided. No more miss nice-girl.

Her father was trying to get up, when she kicked him in the guts. She kicked him a second time. He tried to crawl away from her ,but she wouldn't let him. This was payback-time. She grabbed one of his legs, and flung him out of the window. She sound of breaking glass as he went right through it, and landed outside on the wet grass.

_Shit!_ Mary-Jane thought to herself. After all he'd done to her, she wasn't ready to kill him. She didn't want to kill him. The anger had subsided, and all she was left with was pain. She did the only thing she could think of; she ran. Ran past her father's unconscious body, ran through the streets until she could run no more. She found herself in an ally. Luckily, it was empty. She leaned against the wall and sobbed. She fell to the floor like a rag doll.

'What the hell did I just do? Oh, my God. I…dad, I… shit…' She crawled behind a nearby trashcan, and curled up into a ball. Everything had changed, now.

'Everything has changed.'

She looked up. A man in tattered clothing was looking down at her. In his hand, he held a sign. Even though she was usually a bit frightened of beggars, Mary-Jane couldn't make herself be frightened of this one. Maybe it was her new-found strength? Or something else? Anyway, he looked friendly enough, she decided. He offered her his hand, and helped her up. She straightened her outfit, and smiled at him.

'Thank you.'

'Be careful. Everything has changed, now.'

'I'll say. I've got this amazing set of abs all of a sudden. I threw my dad through the window. Not that I meant to.' She added hastily. Talking to this guy made her feel better, oddly enough.

'There are decisions to be made.'

She looked at him. Did he know something?

'Ehm, yeah. Yeah, you're right.' She agreed, somewhat miffed. The man looked right into her eyes, making her nervous. It was like he was trying to tell her something without actually saying it. When it became clear to him his message wasn't hitting home, he merely smiled the sad smile of the misunderstood and walked back into the street, leaving Mary-Jane alone with her musings.

Well, one thing was certain. She needed to talk to someone. She smiled to herself, as she walked to school. Maybe Peter could help her understand.

…

Peter finished his breakfast. So far, it had been a peaceful morning. Just like any other morning. No creepy girls chasing him, nice and quiet breakfast, a big basket full of mail…

'Aunt May? Whose mail is that?' Peter asked, looking ominously at the basket and its contents.

'Why, it's yours Peter. You must have some secrets admirers at school.' Aunt May answered, smiling.

Peter reached for the basket cautiously, as if touching it would get him struck by lightning. He picked up a pink envelope that was leaning dangerously over the edge. It was covered in hearts, and smelled vaguely of perfume. Carefully, he opened it and took out the piece of paper that was inside. As he read the contents of the letter, his eyes widened and he stopped breathing.

'Peter? Are you alright? Peter!'

'Yeah, yeah I'm fine, aunt May. It's just that… this one's a little bit…graphic.' Peter answered, handing his aunt the love letter from hell.

'… oh! Oh, dear!' aunt May began to giggle. It was giving Peter the creeps. He snatched back the evil epitaph of doom, put it back in the basket and carried the whole thing up to his room. This, he thought to himself, is so wrong. If it where only letters, then fine. He could live with that. But it didn't stop there. Some of these envelopes were bulging too much for comfort. Peter looked at the basket once more as he put it down, then left his room and locked it. Enough time to sort through it later. He picked up his bag and hoped he'd be able to get to the bus on time.


	3. bringing out the big guns

**Chapter three - bringing out the big guns**

Mary-Jane looked out the window when she heard an all to familiar cry. Peter had missed the bus. Again. Usually, she found it endearing. Not right now, though. Right now, she just felt he should run faster. _Come on, you pansy, keep up!_

Mary-Jane shook her head in disbelief. What was wrong with her? She walked to the front of the bus.

'Pull over!' She yelled at the driver, a little louder than she had intended. The man raised an eyebrow mockingly. Mary-Jane looked back levelly, and the man admitted defeat. Under loud protest from the other students on the bus, he pulled over. Mary-Jane smiled sweetly at the driver, then walked back to her seat next to Flash.

'Why'd you do that, MJ? Parker needs his daily run to become a big boy.' Flash taunted, looking at his friends for recognition. They grinned as they saw Peter making his way to the back of the bus, and tripping over a carefully placed bag. As almost everyone laughed, Mary-Jane felt embarrassed by her classmates. _Yeah, like I'm so normal. If they knew about my muscles they'd freak. _She looked at Peter as he got up, and their eyes locked. For a moment.

_But you wouldn't mock me, would you? You never do._

As Flash held her against him possessively, she let her mind wonder. What was the meaning of this anger? Where did these muscles come from? What else lay in store for her today? As the bus came to a standstill in front of the school, Mary-Jane could only hope the rest of the day would turn out normal.

……………………………

Harry woke up to a high-pitched noise. At first, he couldn't make heads or tails of it. But the memories of the previous day came flooding back soon enough, and Harry remembered everything. How he and Peter were trapped in the bathroom, how he'd figured a way out, how he'd left Peter behind. How he'd made it back home.

How his father had asked him what happened. How he had tried to stay vague.

How his father had found out what had happened.

How his father looked at him. _No, you wouldn't have left a fallen comrade behind, dad. I know._

Then, Harry remembered the squeal that had set this whole thing in motion and, against his instincts and better judgment, he opened the curtains slightly and looked out the window. There, on the front lawn, was what appeared to be an encampment of women. Well, women. Girls, more like. Harry closed the curtains, and got dressed. His father was probably loading the Colt already.

As Harry entered his father's study, he found Norman sitting in front of the window facing the lawn. In one hand, he held a glass of whisky, in the other he held what seemed like a piece of paper. The girls outside seemed rather timid, but when they noticed Harry's presence in the room, they became more watchful, giving him looks. Norman noticed this, too. And unfolded the piece of paper almost gleefully when one girl came too close to the window. She instantly retaliated, after throwing a look of absolute disgust at the aforementioned paper.

'Dad? Haven't you loaded the gun yet?' Harry asked, not understanding what was going on even the slightest bit.

'No, son. There are to many of them. I don't have the bullets. Besides, I've found something that works even better.' Turning to his son and smiling, he held up a picture of a baby with a set of strange purple flowers on its head. 'The moment they look at me lustfully, I hold up this picture, and they are instantly unmotivated. Heck, some of them even start to hurl.'

Harry had to agree with them. If there was anything that was a turn-off it was babies. He had to admire his father for his resourcefulness. Another question arose.

'Dad? How am I gonna get to school?'

Norman looked at his son, and had half a mind not to help. His abandonment of Peter was sad, to say the least. Not that he didn't understand the need for survival. But friendship was important, and certainly at Harry's age. But he couldn't leave his son to face this horde alone.

'Son, I've got an idea.'

- - - - - - - - - - -

The encampment were having a bad time. Not only couldn't they enter the mansion, but they were constantly flashed with a creepy picture when they came too close to the study-window. The way things were going now, nobody would be getting any. And that was sad. For most of them at least, Alex mused as she lit a cigarette and watched Suzan put up Christmas decorations on her tent.

'Suzan, what are you doing?'

'I'm creating a cozy little nook for myself.' Suzan answered chirpily. 'Now, to find a socket.' She looked around quizzically. 'Hey Alex, there don't seem to be any sockets here.' She yelped, holding up a rather forlorn-looking plug. Even the Christmas lights seemed embarrassed.

'Suzan, we are on a field of grass. There are no sockets on a field of grass. They grow elsewhere.' Alex said condescendingly. Regretfully, this was too much for Suzan to understand. She just nodded slowly, and took the lights down.

'Okay, but the streamer stays up. It doesn't need electricity.' Suzan noted wisely. Alex took in another whiff of smoke, and let it be.

From below the ground, a strange rumbling arose.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

'Dad, do you even know how to drive this thing?'

'Sure, son. Did a crash-course in '92.'

'How very reassuring. Can we hire a pro now?'

'Nope. Hold on, son. We're breaking out.'

- - - - - - - - - - - -

'What is that?' One of the other girls remarked.

'It seems like the all-familiar rumbling of an M18 Hellcat. With a weight of 18 ton, and a maximum speed of 80 kilometers and hour, the Hellcat can easily be referred to as th-' Rachel began.

'A WHAT!' Alex yelled.

'…Ehm, a tank, Alex. It's a tank.' Rachel simplified rather stupidly.

'Somehow, I knew you were gonna say that.' Alex said, as the ground began to seriously shake.

A piece of empty grassland opened up to reveal a monster of a tank coming straight at them. All girls remembered at once the "80 kilometers an hour" bit, and ran for dear life. Inside, Norman was having a blast.

'Hello, ladies. VENGEANCE!' He screamed, as he pulled some levers whose function Harry could only guess.

'Dad, are you gonna drive this crazy thing all the way to school?'

'Of course not. It doesn't have the gas, and the roads can't hold the weight of this puppy. It's just to get us to the limo that's parked right over…there!' Norman pointed through the small window at the limousine parked on the sidewalk.

'Just hit the brakes, dad.'

' Rollin' rollin' rollin', rawhiiiiiide!' Norman sang, and Harry began to freak out a little bit.

'DAD, JUST HIT THE BRAKES OR WE WON'T BE ABLE TO STOP! PLEASE DON'T SQUISH THE LIMO!' Harry cried out.

'Okay, hold your horses. We're slowing down already. I hope Alex has a drink at the ready, this tank-driving is hard work.'

As it came to a halt, the tank made a final rumbling noise before shutting down completely. Norman and Harry climbed out, and jumped as one man into the back of the limo, which drove away with all due speed.

'Well, that sure was exciting.' Norman smiled, as he looked back at the flustered girls on the field. 'Norman- one, Horny Horde- zero.'

Harry looked at his father in amazement. 'Horny Horde? You gave them a nickname?'

'Yeah, it's easier to remember than "that evil group of girls from hell, that are out to get me and do God-knows-what with me".'

'That's true.' Harry conceded.

'…so, how are you gonna make it up with Peter?'

Harry felt like an anchor had been dropped on his stomach. Why did he have to bring this up! As if reading his mind, his father filled in what Harry already knew.

'You've gotta take responsibility for your actions, Harry. If you leave a friend out in the cold when he needs you the most, you can only have yourself to blame. Peter likes you, and I'm sure he would've helped you ,were you in his position. You can't just have your own best interests in mind when you make a decision.' Norman mused out loud, hoping his son would see the point. 'Furthermore,' he continued,' there are more important things at stake. Those girls are a menace, and if they are also after Peter, then we've got to form a front. We can't face these demons separately. We need each other. You understand why?'

'Yes.' Harry admitted grudgingly.

'Well then,' Norman smiled smugly,' you go and find Peter, and talk him into staying with us for a while. I'm sure he'll understand.'

'I'm sure he will, dad.'

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Back on the field, the fangirls were astonished.

'WHOA! DID YA SEE THAT! LIKE, OH MY GOD!'

'Yeah, he, like, almost tanked us, or something.'

'This is SO not right!'

Alex, who'd climbed up a nearby tree, looked across the field and assessed the damage. No girls had been injured or run over, luckily. But some of the tents were squished. A scream filled the air. _Suzan!_ Alex thought. _She's the only one who can scream so loudly_. Alex climbed down as fast as she could, and made her way over to Suzan, who was sitting next to what little remained of her tent. The Christmas-lights lay shattered in her lap.

'My lights are dead! Look at them. The red ones, and the blue ones. Even the yellow ones!' She looked rather forlornly at Alex. Quite a crowd had gathered around the two, and Alex took the opportunity to look every girl in the eye. As she looked around, she saw the streamer Suzan put up lying on the grass. It had gotten quite dirty as it had come into close contact with the tank. Somehow, it made Alex feel a bit melancholy. Some of the girls seemed to be going through a similar experience, because their faces turned slightly gray as they looked at the streamer.

Alex picked it up and walked over to the discarded tank. The group, Suzan included, followed her. No one said a word. Alex climbed on the tank, to use it as a platform. She raised her arms in the air, beckoning for silence. Not that any beckoning was needed.

'Ladies, we have been violated.' Alex began. 'These men are supposed to fall in love with us the moment they see us, because that's just the way it is. Not only have they not done so, but they have openly attacked us, destroyed our things and have just been complete and total wankers.' The girls nodded their agreement.

'We must show them we are not to be messed with. They got enough time to get used to us, so the initial stress of seeing us must've worn off by now. They should be quite ready to be pounced on by us. The question right now is, why aren't they? Any suggestions?'

It stayed eerily quiet. In the back, a hand shot up into the air.

'Maybe we've been going at it the wrong way. You know, maybe we should not go as ourselves but become a different character altogether?'

Sounds of agreement were heard all around the group. Alex motioned for silence.

'Maybe. At least it's worth a try. However, I think we should ask One what this is all about. After all, did she not promise us booty?'

The girls all yelled their agreement. They started talking amongst themselves excitedly. The word "booty" often had that effect on them. Suddenly, everyone fell quiet. The group parted to reveal a tall woman walking towards Alex, who was still standing on top of the tank.

'Hello, Alex. Performing some mutiny, are we?' The woman noted coolly.

Alex climbed down from the tank to face her boss. 'Well, you di-'

She didn't get a chance to finish, because One slapped her across the face, hard. Somewhere in the crowd, Suzan wailed. One turned to face the crowd.

'Your first idea was good. After all, when in Rome, do as the Romans. Peter-fans, become high school-girls, Norman-fans, become laboratory-assistants, get CREATIVE!' She yelled this last word to get her point across. 'You are not trying hard enough! You think if you come within ten feet of them, they'll just fall for you instantly? WRONG! This is not like your stories, your fanfiction. You have to think beyond that. This is their universe. Live it, breathe it, be it, use it!' One pressed, arms raised for emphasis. Alex looked at her leader, and found herself confused. This was not what she was told some months ago, when One recruited her. She was told it would be easy. A piece of cake. Endless nights of… And here they were, almost flattened by a feckin' huge tank and not getting any at all. The dilemma facing her now was whether or not to stick with this leader, who, to Alex, seemed to be operating by some hidden agenda of her own. Or to take the high road and form her own hunting-party. She looked at Suzan and Rachel, who were standing side by side at the edge of the group. Stealthily, she made her way over to them, trying not to catch One's fiery eye. Passing Rachel, she tugged her sleeve, beckoning her to follow her. Rachel, in turn, prodded Suzan, who followed with a lot more quiet than she had displayed over the past few days. Being a good distance away from the group, Alex broke the silence.

'Well, then…'

'Are you alright? I mean, she hit you kinda hard.' Suzan asked, a look of worry on her face.

Alex smiled. 'I'm fine, Suzan. Thanks for asking. The thing is this; if we stay with One, we might get what we came here for. However, I think we're better off if we separate from the group, and hunt them down ourselves. What do you think, Rache?'

Rachel nodded. 'A definite option. However, One is currently in possession of our only means to get back to our own world. Even if we get our men, One might decide, out of spite, to leave us here. And then what? Or even worse, what if they get them first, and leave us here anyway? There's a lot of risk involved here, Alex. I'm thinking: Is it worth it?'

Alex nodded in turn. 'True. Very true. Same thoughts crossed my mind. Here we are, in unfamiliar surroundings, faced with what seems to be an impossible goal. But right now, I feel very confident about it. After all, One wouldn't be that cruel, would she?'

In the background, One was still speaking heatedly. Alex sighed.

'What if… we catch Norman first, then make him build a device to bring us back?' Suzan wondered out loud. Alex snorted.

'Suzan, honestly. How would he…' But Rachel interrupted her.

'No wait, Alex. That may not be such a bad idea. We've all seen the movie, we know what this man can do. What's more, besides intelligence he's got smarts, too. Street-smarts. I think, with the right approach, it is doable.'

Alex nodded slowly. A plan was taking shape in her head. Suzan beamed.

'So, you like my idea? You really like it.'

'Suzan, my dear. We LOVE it!' Rachel answered, smiling broadly.

Suzan squeaked with delight, and glomped Rachel. 'thankyouthankyouthanky-'

'Okay, girls, break it up. We've got to split before One finds out we're missing. Let's go!' Alex made for the street, but Rachel held her back.

'No, wait. If we leave now, we won't be able to get our stuff, or what's left of it.' She said, looking sidelong at Suzan, who seemed very sad. 'We should go with her now, pretend to support her, quietly pack our things, then make like a tree. Agreed?'

' Agreed. Although I'm not sure that "make like a tree" is a bona fide expression.'

The three girls looked at each other. They had just made a pact. As they made their way back to the group, they felt this time they would end up on top of the situation. Unless, of course, being on the bottom turned out to be more fun.

……………………………..

Peter was watchful. This, as such, wasn't a strange occurrence at all. If you've been unpopular all your school-life you're bound to be watchful of your surroundings. But today, there was an edge to his watchfulness. He couldn't care less about people making fun of his walk, or his glasses, or just eyeing him. He was paying special attention to the girls. Any girl that seemed out of the ordinary, or who was wearing a T-shirt with "I heart Peter" on it in huge letters, would not go unnoticed by him. Being in this way distracted, he bumped into the one girl he knew would never dream of wearing aforementioned T-shirt.

'Mary-Jane, hi. I-I didn't see you.' Peter smiled meekly. Already, he could feel his cheeks turning red.

Mary-Jane smiled back. 'It's alright Peter. You seemed a little distracted. I've got your camera.' Mary-Jane said hastily, handing back Peter's camera. Peter took it from her, giving it a thorough once-over. 'Wow, it's still in one piece. I was hoping those creepy girls hadn't noticed me handing it to you. How did the tour go? Did you take any good pictures?'

Mary-Jane thought about this for a while. Should she tell him now? 'Can we talk about this during lunch-break? We've got history in five, remember?'

Peter nodded. 'Yeah, you're right. Totally forgot about that. I'll see you in five, then.' He said, as he walked away and almost tripped over another bag. He turned a deeper shade of red, smiled at Mary-Jane apologetically, then walked away as fast as his legs could carry him. Why was he always such an idiot when she was around?

Not looking out where he was going, Peter bumped headfirst into Harry. Both fell to the floor. Harry was the first one to recover.

'Hi, Pete. How are things?'

'Hello, Harry. I see you didn't get pounced on by a mob of horny girls.' Peter answered him levelly. Harry looked down shyly.

'I'm really sorry about that, but it was my own ass on the line. What would've been the point of both of us getting caught, in stead of one? Besides, you seem to be doing pretty well, considering.' He tried to smile, but failed miserably. Peter eyed him wearily.

'I really don't wanna talk about it, alright. If that was all, we've got history to get to.' Peter walked in the direction of the classroom, but Harry stopped him.

'Hold on, Pete. I've got a message from dad. He got attacked by those girls, too. He said it's better if we stick together, so he wants you to move in with us for a while. At least until the girls are gone.' Peter faced Harry reluctantly.

'I don't like this at all, but it's probably a good idea, considering.' The image of the basket formed itself clearly in Peter's mind, and cackled. 'alright. After school, I'll pack my things and go to your house.'

'No, wait. It's better if we pick you up.' Harry spoke hastily. Peter raised his eyebrows questioningly, but when Harry didn't explain he decided it was probably for the best to let it slide.

'Okay, Harry. Whatever you say. Let's just get to history-class.'

'Good idea.'

They said nothing more to each other after that.

…………………………

Lunch-break turned out to be as uneventful as History-class, and Peter was convinced this was the silence before the storm. Although he saw no unfamiliar faces, or familiar ones for that matter, he still didn't dare to let his guard down. But, as we all know, things often happen in threes. First he had bumped into Mary-Jane, shortly after he'd bumped into Harry and, as fate would have it, his third bump of the day would turn out to be Flash Thompson, with a full tray, right to the chest. As he threw a disgruntled look at the soda dripping down his ruined shirt, Flash looked at Peter with that certain type of amazement that often precedes physical violence.

'Parker. You are. So dead!'

Peter decided not to wait for that, and ran for it, Flash following close behind. Mary-Jane, who had watched the whole thing happen from close by, followed the pair as they ran through the corridor. When Peter found there was nowhere left to run, he turned to face the music. Flash towered over him like a four-story building.

'I didn't do it on purpose, Flash. There is no need to-'

'I'll do the talking here, Parker. And the hitting, for that matter. All you have to do, is squirm.' Flash raised his fist, and Peter covered his head with his arms. When the punch didn't come, Peter looked up carefully. Mary-Jane was holding Flash' raised arm, and talking to him angrily.

'Jesus, Flash, you are so full of it. It's obvious he didn't do it on purpose! Why'd you have to pick on him all the time!'

'Because he's asking for it, MJ. He's a scrawny, little bug that needs to be squished.'

'It's over between us, Flash. You are such an asshole.' Mary-Jane said, strutting away.

'MJ, wait!' Flash yelled, grabbing her arm.

He shouldn't have done that.

Mary-Jane's freshly developed spider-sense sprang into action. She grabbed Flash Thompson's belt and tossed him bodily to a spot at least four feet away, were he landed with a thud, and groaned. His friends went over to him, throwing fearful, mistrusting looks Mary-Jane as they passed her. Peter approached her cautiously.

'Wow, MJ. That was cool. How'd you do that?'

'I-I took karate lessons.' Mary-Jane said hastily, hoping she'd get away with it.

'More like sumo-wrestling lessons, if you ask me.' Peter answered.

Mary-Jane smiled. 'Yeah, I suppose so.'

As her friends walked over to her, Mary-Jane said goodbye to Peter. She knew he'd understand.

'Oh my God. You just tossed Flash Thompson! I don't believe it.'

'Yeah, MJ. What's going on?'

Mary-Jane tried the same trick again, but the girls wouldn't buy it.

'MJ, You've never practiced a sport in your life. Why would you start now? And what's with these muscles?'

Mary-Jane felt cornered. She couldn't answer these questions honestly. It didn't feel right.

'I've got to go to the bathroom! See you girls later, 'kay!' She said, and ran. Once she reached the bathroom, which was , luckily, empty, she rushed into the first cubicle and sat down. Damn, this was confusing. As she usually did when confronted by an oddity, she started to dissect it. Firstly, there was the sudden outburst of muscles throughout her body, secondly there was the anger, thirdly there was that sense, that warned her of things. In her head, Mary-Jane began to think back to yesterday, going over events in her head. She remembered all those strange girls, Peter and Harry running past her, Peter handing her his camera, taking pictures, getting bitten by a spider…

_Oh, honestly. What are you thinking! Spiders don't give people superpowers. Get a hold of yourself. _Mary-Jane told herself. Her heart was still racing from her encounter with Flash. Without thinking, she felt her pulse to check her heartbeat. And got the scare of a lifetime. Something sticky had come out of her pulse, and splattered against the privy door. And the other end was still attached to her wrist. Mary-Jane pulled her arm back, and watched as the sticky stuff stretched with it. Not too far, but far enough. With a little extra strength on her part, Mary-Jane pulled her wrist free, and watched as the stuff stuck against the door. She touched it. It felt sticky, and had a web-like quality to it. She couldn't help but smile. Maybe spiders did have super-powers. That spider had, anyway. Then she remembered the missing super-spider back at the laboratory. That must've been it! She heard her friends enter the bathroom. Oh, great! They were looking for her. Usually, Mary-Jane would tell them everything. But this was just too much.

'MJ? You in here? We need to talk.' One of her friends called out.

'Maybe she isn't here.' Another said.

'Yeah, or maybe she's just ignoring us. Come on, MJ. Don't be like that.' The first one replied, opening the door to the first cubicle.

It was empty.

'So, you wanna conduct a global search, or what?' One of the others said sarcastically.

'Okay, point taken. We'll search for her elsewhere. She can't be far.'

Mary-Jane watched her friends leave, and the door fall shut behind them. Then wondered why she was hanging on the sealing. Not to mention how! She lowered herself gently to the ground. That had been some spider that bit her! As she looked at her hands, she saw tiny hooks standing on end, reacting to her movements. She felt rather bewildered. Muscles, creepy webbing, hyper-sensitivity bordering on premonition, little fishhooks growing out of her palms. _Welcome to Freakville, people!_

Mary-Jane wanted to go home. She wanted to check on her mother, see if her father was still in one piece, and just get away from everyone. As she sneaked out of the ladies' room, she walked right into Harry Osborn.

'Hi, Harry. Sorry about that.'

'It's okay, MJ. I heard you've taken up karate. Kicked Flash's rear-end, and all that.'

She blushed. 'Yeah, I kinda did.' Harry was cute, in an Elvis sort of way. He seemed to like her, too.

'Hey, MJ. Would you like to go out with me sometime?'

Mary-Jane nodded. 'Sure. When?'

'Eh… how about dinner at my house tomorrow?' Harry really didn't know why he'd suggested that. His father would probably be there. He'd probably ask her all kinds of questions, be polite. Then have a talk with him later on, telling him why he should find himself another girlfriend or, even better, just stay single. Mary-Jane mistook his frown for something else.

'Are you sure, Harry? You can still run and hide. I promise I won't throw you anywhere.'

'No! No, that's not it. Just thinking of something else. So, at what time shall I pick you up tomorrow?' Harry recovered.

'Ehm, somewhere around six? That okay?'

'Perfect. I'll be seeing you.' Harry said, as he took on of her hands and kissed it.

'Bye.' Mary-Jane managed to stammer.

As she left the school, Mary-Jane felt a lightness in her head. She felt she could fly. As she walked past that same alley she had hidden in after hurting her father, she had the strangest urge to climb up one of those buildings, and feel the wind in her hair. She sneaked into the deserted alleyway until she was well out of sight, then put her hands up against the wall. She felt the little hooks on her palms attach themselves to the wall, and she started to climb. Whatever rules gravity had walking around the place to keep humanity in check, they no longer applied to her as she climbed the vertical barrier that stood between her and sweet mother freedom. As she reached the roof of the building, she was struck by a strong wind, that almost knocked her back. She looked out over the city. The view was spectacular. The sky was a pale blue, and the sun shone warmly on her face. Below her, people were living their lives, completely unaware of her presence. She felt happy. Truly happy. She looked at the building adjacent to hers. The distance seemed bridgeable. She could do it. Mary-Jane took a few steps back, breathed in deeply and ran for the opposite edge of the building. And leaped.

Flying through the air was an amazing feeling. It was like a first word, a first hug, a first kiss and a first time all at once. Mary-Jane had never felt so truly free as she did now, being detached from the earth in every way possible. No worries, no problems, just the moment.

Then she landed. The landing had not been as rough as she'd thought. Mary-Jane leaped the rest of the way home from building to building, until she ran out of tall buildings, and climbed down into another alley closer to her home. As she walked the rest of the way, her thoughts drifted involuntarily back to this morning. She truly hoped her father was alright. He was a jerk, yes, but she didn't want him to die. In wasn't in Mary-Jane's nature to want to kill. She was a beautiful, young woman with a fun-loving, gentle nature. She desired love, friendship and clarity in her life. Since yesterday, her life had been turned upside-down. Surprise after surprise was thrown on her path, and she began to wonder where all this was going. Why was she the one to get these amazing powers? The man with the sign floated bag into her mind. _Had he known?_

Mary-Jane approached her house cautiously. The broken window brought back memories of past anger. Her father was nowhere to be seen or heard. As she walked to the back-door, she heard a voice coming from behind her.

'Hello, Mary-Jane. Glad to see you're alright.'

It was Ben Parker, Peter's uncle. Mary-Jane had always had a weak spot for uncle Ben. He called her by her first name, instead of just MJ, was always nice to her, and never judged her. Not like her father did. Uncle Ben accepted her the way she was. She smiled at him.

'I guess my father's still alive?' As she heard herself talk, Mary-Jane felt instantly sorry. She had sounded almost disappointed.

'Yes, he's still alive. That must've been some serious amount of whisky he downed, jumping through the window like that.'

Mary-Jane blinked. _Jumped? Was that what they thought?_

'Jumped.'

Uncle Ben nodded.

'That's what your mother said. She saw the whole thing, and tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen. Must've startled you pretty good, too. You ran out of here like you'd grown wings.' He smiled at her. 'He's at the hospital now, probably hating the food and trying to pinch the bottoms of the nurses.'

They both laughed, and Mary-Jane felt relieved. He hadn't died. Uncle Ben motioned for her to follow him.

'Would you like a cup of hot chocolate? May's just made a fresh batch.'

Mary-Jane smiled, and shook her head. 'I'd better check on my mom.'

Ben nodded. 'Good idea. But don't be stranger. We've been seeing too little of you lately.'

'I will. Thank you, mister Parker.'

'You're welcome, Mary-Jane.'

…………………………

Peter's day had been a rough, rather uncomfortable one. And things only got worse when he got home. Between the moment Mary-Jane had talked to uncle Ben, and the moment Peter came home, the Peter-fangirls had figured out where he lived. He came home, to find a strange assortment of teenage females camping out on his lawn, and on the sidewalk. Most were wearing t-shirts with what seemed to be names of schools on it. Though they weren't schools Peter had ever heard of. The girls looked at him, but didn't touch him. But Peter decided it was better to be safe than sorry, and walked past them as quietly as possible. Some of them giggled as he got close to them, some even made obscene gestures with their tongues. Peter ran the rest of the way. As he closed the door behind him, the lawn erupted into giggles.

'Aunt May? Uncle Ben?'

Peter walked into the kitchen, to find his uncle and aunt sitting at the table with mugs of hot chocolate in front of them.

'Hello, Peter. How was school?' Aunt may asked. Peter dropped his bag in a corner, and took the mug aunt May offered him gladly. As he sipped, he tried to make sense of it all.

'Well, this guy, Flash Thompson, picked a fight with me. I bumped into him, by accident, and he got his lunch all over his shirt. So, he chased me down the hall, and I'm about to get pummeled, and Mary-Jane steps in and stops him. She tells him it's over between them, and walks away. And, when Flash grabs her arm to stop her from leaving, she throws him over shoulder like he weighs nothing!' Peter said excitedly. ' So he's on the floor, groaning, and MJ's standing there, looking kinda dazed, like she had no idea what she just did. And that's it, really.' He finished deadpan. 'Oh, and Harry has asked me to come and stay with him and his dad for a while. Because of those creepy girls outside. They've been attacked by them, too.'

Uncle Ben nodded in agreement. 'That's probably for the best. Should I drive you there?'

'No thanks, uncle Ben. Harry said that he and his dad would pick me up.'

'Alright… any new mail?'

Peter groaned. Just when the Basket Of Absolute Terror had finally left his mind, it was back to haunt him. 'I'll have to sort through that, I suppose.'

Uncle Ben nodded. 'Know your enemy, Peter.'

'More chocolate, anyone?' Aunt May asked.

That evening, Peter felt nauseous. The girls outside were even scarier in this light than during midday. The low light cast eerie shadows on their hungry faces. The curtain of innocence was drawn, and the evil inside eyed Peter with a resoluteness that could astonish the dictator of a small country. Peter turned back to his dinner, but couldn't find the motivation to chew, taste and swallow. He put his cutlery down, and breathed deeply a couple of times. Uncle Ben grabbed his shoulder and shook it gently.

'Don't worry, Peter. Harry will come for you. Depend on it.'

Peter snorted. 'He didn't last time, did he? Left me in the toilet to get pounced on.'

'Then count on his father.'

Peter threw a depressed look out the window. Aunt May started to clear the table.

The sound of a helicopter coming from overhead was getting steadily closer. Peter was in his room, packing his bag and throwing the occasional look of utter despair at The Basket. Uncle Ben knocked on his door.

'Peter, your ride is here!' He yelled over the noise. Peter grabbed his bag. During a moment of clarity, he dragged uncle Ben's army duffle bag out of the closet, and threw the contents of the basket in it. Duffle and shoulder-bag in hand, Peter walked out of his room. Uncle Ben and aunt May were waiting for him in the corridor.

'You'd better leave through the attic. Those girls outside are getting pretty restless.' Uncle Ben said.

Peter hugged his uncle and kissed his aunt goodbye.

'I'll try to be back soon!'

'We know, son. Just go!'

Peter ran up the stairs to the attic. The attic's only window was large enough for him to climb through, even with baggage. As he opened the window, Peter felt the wind the helicopter was creating. A man lowered himself from the helicopter to right in front of the window. Then climbed in.

'YOU PETER PARKER?' the noise from the helicopter was deafening. Peter had to yell just to be understood.

'YEAH!'

'GOOD! DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME! THOSE YOUR BAGS? HAND THEM OVER!' The man strapped the bags into a separate harness, then helped peter into his. Together they climbed out the window, and stood on the edge.

'NOW HOLD ON!' The man said, then tugged the rope. Peter felt momentarily weightless as they were lifted into the air. As a pair of hands helped him into the helicopter, Peter looked down. The girls on the lawn were blown away by the rotors, and Peter couldn't help but smile. As he looked up, he once again came face to face with Norman Osborn.

'Hello, Peter. Nice to see you again. How are you holding up?'

'Pretty well, considering. Those girls outside are really creeping me out.'

'You and me both.'

Peter took the seat next to Norman. Harry, who was sitting opposite him, was looking pretty gloomy.

'Hi, Harry.' Peter said, having nothing better to say.

'Hi, Pete. Nice posse you've got down there.'

'Don't even start. Or are your admirers more fun than mine?'

Harry raised a mocking eyebrow. 'Very funny.'

As the helicopter made its way back to the Osborn-mansion, Norman watched the two young men talking to each other. He tried to remember his own youth, but his mind was clouded. He couldn't think of any memory worth thinking about. Except for his wife. Their first years had been so good, and Norman tried to remember where it went wrong. She had known from the get-go that he was married to his work, and had been alright with it. At least, that's what she had told him. The rest of his memory turned grim, as he remembered her death. He'd left her alone too much. Both his wife and his son. He had let them down. Been to busy with abstracts to see what was going on right under his nose. He lived with the guilt every day.

The sight of Osborn-manor wasn't very enlightening either. The girls were still there. The tank was still there, too. Norman noted happily. He really liked that tank. It reminded him of his current life. _Powerful, guns blazing, empty._

_No, not empty._ He looked tenderly at his son for a moment. Harry looked like him, but he had his mother's eyes. They could shine so fiercely when Harry was angry. God, how he missed his wife!

As they landed on the helipad, Norman felt the strong urge to bury himself in work. Stromm would probably still be at Oscorp. He and Norman were the same in that respect; All work and no play. After saying goodbye to Harry and Peter, Norman took his usual seat next to the pilot, and headed for Oscorp.

…………………………

'Well, I hope you'll settle in alright. If not, warn me. Okay?'

Peter nodded. This was all the incentive Harry needed to leave. Harry meant well, and he didn't want to disappoint him. The room Harry had shown him to was spacious enough, but felt impersonal. As if it was meant to make guests leave sooner, in stead of stick around. Peter felt rather forlorn as sat down on what appeared to be the largest bed in history. _Not to mention the deepest,_ Peter thought to himself, as he sank at least a foot deep into the mattress. He looked at the duffle bag, shrugged rather helplessly and got ready for bed. Enough for one day.

**End of chapter three.**


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